Temporal Steele
by Amy S
Summary: Steele and Laura are at a turning point in their relationship, but they're going to screw it up without a little cosmic meddling. (Complete story is here.)
1. Part 1

Temporal Steele **__**

Temporal Steele

A Remington Steele — Star Trek: Voyager Story

by AMY STONE

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Disclaimer

This story is not in any way associated with the owners of either Remington Steele or Star Trek: Voyager. The characters, except for those I invented for the story, are not owned by me (but I can wish), and the story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights. It is meant as fan fiction and is purely for entertainment.

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Summary

Laura and Steele have reached a turning point in their relationship, but they're going to screw it up without a little cosmic meddling by mysterious aliens, whether Captain Janeway agrees with it or not.

Non-Trekkers: You need to know two things. 1) Harry plays the clarinet. 2) The Doctor is a hologram who either has to be in Sick Bay or a holodeck or use his mobile emitter.

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Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Jess and Jacqueline for their comments, grammar catches, and suggestions.

****

You can find a Word version of this story at my website: [www.astone.homestead.com][1]

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_Prologue_

The tunnel was dark and close. Tom Paris inched his way forward, his shoulders barely clearing the roughly dug clay walls. The bag that dragged behind him from a line tied to his ankle scraped along quietly, feeding out wire as he moved. Then the tunnel stopped.

In the cramped space, he managed to grab hold of the line on his ankle and tug the bag up. He placed it gingerly ahead of him, then rolled over onto his back. His knees and shoulders brushed the tunnel walls causing tiny explosions of dust and debris that filled his lungs. He stifled several coughs and the urge to panic; there was no way to know how near the tunnel came to the surface or just who might be standing guard up there with nothing to do but listen.

Tom reached out an arm to brush off his clothes, then remembered it was useless. He looked more like a castaway than a US Army captain. A little more dirt would not make any difference. After the dust settled, he calmed himself with deep breaths and set to work. Carefully, he cut the wire he had been feeding out with a small piece of roughly sharpened metal and stripped away its coating. A brief rummage through the bag produced an ancient light socket, which he quickly wired in and anchored to the ceiling as best he could in the nearly complete darkness.

The last item in the bag was a light bulb, carefully wrapped in a scrap of cloth. Tom unwrapped it and reached for the socket. The wires were all live, so he screwed his eyes shut as he slowly turned the bulb. He was not showered with sparks or electrocuted. He opened one eye and was greeted with the dim glow of an underpowered light bulb. Satisfied with his work, he rolled back over and began to dig with a misshapen serving spoon stolen from the mess hall.

Tom had barely dug another few centimeters of tunnel when suddenly above him he heard shouting in both German and English. He could not make out the words, but he thought he knew what was going on. Once before, a tunneler had come too close to the surface, and his digging spoon had poked through the grass above. The other prisoners had seen this and had caused a commotion to cover for the mistake.

A quick survey of the tunnel walls, however, proved his guess wrong. He had not broken through the surface. There was no dust-filled shaft of sunlight adding to the light from the dirt-streaked bulb. So what was going on up there, he asked himself. Do I keep digging or crawl back to the barracks?

The decision was made for him when the shouting abruptly stopped. Tom listened carefully for another moment or two, then resumed digging. His pilfered serving spoon had barely touched the dirt when running feet clad in heavy boots caused another small cave-in. Were his fellow POWs taking advantage of some unforeseeable opportunity and escaping without him?

Tom collected his tools and put them back into the bag in preparation for a hasty retreat. That was when the shooting began.

It sounded like panic fire: long streams of automatic weapons fire instead of the short, controlled bursts one would expect from guards eliminating an escaping or problem prisoner. Other guns joined in, and then all was quiet again. Tom assumed whatever had startled the guards had been stopped or identified.

He listened again, his ear pressed against the tunnel ceiling, and was again proven wrong. The gunfire resumed, punctuated by barked orders and screaming. Then the phaser fire joined in.

Before a confused Tom could get out the words "end program," a Borg arm burst through the dirt wall and grabbed him by the shirtfront. Tom's confusion turned to panic as the head of the Borg came into sight. Underneath the implants and sickly pale skin was the face of Harry Kim.

As Tom's eyes went wide, the Borg's other arm came up. Assimilation tubules sprang out. Instinctively, Tom jerked his upper body back, smashing the light bulb with his head and plunging the struggle into blackness.

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Chapter 1

"I'll kill him!" Laura Holt slammed down the receiver and stormed out of her office, stopping in front of Mildred's desk.

"I take it I can stop looking for the chief now."

"I just spoke to Detective Jarvis. They found him." Laura opened her mouth to elaborate, then let out a sharp breath and waved it off. Exasperated, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

Mildred came around her desk and put her hand on Laura's shoulder. "Well, where is he? Aren't we going to go get him?"

"No, we aren't, Mildred. He and I need to have a little chat. Alone."

"Don't be too rough on him, Miss Holt. He's been gone for four days. Who know what he's been through?"

"I don't really care." Laura went back into her office and began throwing items from the desk into her purse: a notepad, a tube of lipstick, a pen. Mildred trotted after her.

"Oh, Miss Holt, you don't mean that. The boss has disappeared before and..."

"Yes, he has." Laura stopped. "He has."

"And he always comes back, case closed," Mildred finished, raising a finger to punctuate her words.

Laura resumed chucking office supplies into her bag. "Case closed? Hardly. That man has no regard for clients, this agency, or his own safety. And I always have to bail him out."

"You think a stapler is going to help?"

Laura looked down at the item she was placing in her purse. She weighed it in her hand for a moment, then replaced it on the desk.

"What am I going to do with him, Mildred?"

"Worry about that later, Miss Holt. For now, it sound like you just need to go get him." Mildred followed Laura to the door. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Oregon."

"Oregon? I'd better cancel your appointments for a while."

Laura gave her loyal assistant a small smile.

"I'll call you when I get there."

The flight and airport hassles gave Laura several hours to contemplate homicide. She was still as irate as when she spoke to Jarvis when her cab pulled up in front of an old factory in Salem. A police cruiser, lights off, and an ancient Porsche were the only other cars in sight. She paid the driver, collected her bag from the trunk, and stomped up the stairs to the main door.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Laura called, pushing the door open impatiently.

A uniformed officer appeared from a back room.

"You Laura Holt?"

"Yes, I am."

"Back here." The officer turned and went back the way he came. Laura shrugged and followed him.

She entered the room, unsure of what to expect. She saw the officer off to one side and a man leaning over someone laid out flat on an old wooden table. The only other furniture in the room was a metal chair and a filing cabinet.

"Doc, this here's Laura Holt. Fill her in on his condition and make sure she brings him by the station when he's up and around. I've got paperwork to do." With that, the officer left. Laura heard the front door open and close, then a car start up and drive away.

The doctor did not immediately turn around. Laura watched as he fished a penlight out of his pocket and clicked it on. The doctor finished checking his patient's pupils, then turned and stepped out of the way.

Remington Steele was out cold on the table. His shirt was open to the waist, sleeves rolled up, and Laura could see red marks on his arm. He was drooling slightly. He was also thinner than she had ever seen him.

She stepped forward, reaching her hand out to wipe his face.

"I'd just let him be if I were you."

That was when the smell in the room hit her.

"The police tried to move him before I got here." The doctor let out a small chuckle. "They learned fast. Everything's all cleaned up, but the smell's going to linger for a while."

"What happened? Is he ok?"

"He will be," the doctor reassured her. "They gave him something called CS-12. There are no permanent effects that we know of, but he won't be able to be moved until he starts to come around. Any movement causes severe disorientation, vertigo, and nausea. With him, it's a little worse."

"It's been hours since I was called. How much longer will he be like this?" She wanted to help him, comfort him.

"It depends. CS-12 isn't exactly FDA approved. It could be a few more hours or a few more days, depending on metabolism, dosage, and about fifty other variables. There's nothing to be done but wait, and you're elected to wait with him. I've got to get back to the hospital."

Laura's eyes left her "boss" for the first time since the doctor moved out of the way.

"Wait a minute. You can't leave. What do I do? What if there are complications? Who did this to him? Are they in custody?"

The doctor put his hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do. There's nothing anybody can do. He just needs time and cannot be moved. As far as who did this, I believe you detectives would say 'case closed'."

"Case closed," Laura repeated dully.

As the doctor headed for the door, he said, "Remember to bring him by the police station when he's back to his old self. However, I'm not sure what good that will do. He won't remember anything."

The doctor disappeared. Through the thin walls of the aging building, Laura heard the other car start and drive off. She was alone with him.

"Case closed." Those words reminded her that she was mad at him. She yelled them at his unconscious form, waving her arms.

"Case closed! I spend my entire adult life studying and apprenticing, working to build my agency...my agency...up from nothing. Then you show up, with your blue eyes and mysterious past, and you wreak havoc in my life. Yet, as Mildred said, you always manage to close the case. How do you do it?"

Her pacing and infuriated gesturing stopped abruptly when she got a reply.

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Chapter 2

"Ow, Doc! That hurts!" Tom exclaimed, wincing and gingerly touching the back of his head.

"I should think so, Mr. Paris. Several of these shards are quite large." The Doctor resumed picking light bulb fragments out of Tom's bleeding head. "This is what you get for turning off the safety protocols pertaining to minor injuries."

"I thought a few cuts and bruises would make things more realistic."

"You could have warned me." Harry Kim's voice cam out of the uninjured Borg drone perched on the next bio-bed. "I wouldn't have been so rough on you."

Tom retorted, "I'll get you for this, Harry. I said war simulation, not Borg simulation. What possessed you to come as the enemy, anyway?"

"You said you wanted realism. A break from the world of Captain Proton. I thought I'd give you a challenge. Besides, it's fun to be the bad guy."

The Doctor replaced his instrument on the tray and said, "Well, your head is back in one piece, on the outside at any rate. Shall I leave the assimilation tubule marks as a badge of honor?"

Harry smiled.

Tom shot back, "Are you kidding? I look like I've been bitten by a vampire." To Harry, he added, "You didn't put any vampires in my holoprogram, did you?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea. If I had the Borg, Nazis, and vampires on my side, I could..." Harry broke off when the doors to Sick Bay opened and the captain strode in.

The Doctor greeted her. "Good day, Captain."

Tom said, "I didn't realize a holodeck mishap rated a personal visit from you, Captain."

Kathryn Janeway surveyed her two crewmen with an amused look. "It does when that mishap results in fourteen reports of a Borg infiltrator carrying an unconscious Starfleet crewman down the corridors. Once Tuvok determined we were not under attack, that the Borg drone was really Harry Kim, and that the officer he was carrying was you, Mr. Paris, I decided I had to hear this one for myself."

Tom laughed, "Well, Captain, I decided to try a new..."

A disembodied voice interrupted him. "Captain Janeway to the bridge."

"What is it, Chakotay?" She addressed the air in front of her.

"We're not sure. There are conflicting sensor readings and possible spatial distortions ahead."

"On my way." To Tom and Harry, she added, "I still want to hear this, but it will have to wait. When you two are done here, report to the bridge. We may need you."

"Aye, Captain," they both replied. Captain Janeway left.

The Doctor finished repairing the wounds on Tom's neck. "You're all set, Mr. Paris. You may go." He looked over at Harry. "I suggest, however, that you stop at your quarters and change first so Mr. Tuvok doesn't shoot you on sight."

***

"Report!" Captain Janeway yelled as the entire ship suddenly shook and loose objects tumbled to the floor on all decks.

Harry brushed debris off his console. "All forward momentum has stopped. The spatial distortions have stabilized. Injuries reported on decks six, eight, and eleven."

"Tom, get us out of this."

"Controls aren't responding, Captain," Tom answered while frantically trying to get the ship moving. The shaking continued for a moment, then stopped. Voyager hung limply in space.

"What just happened?"

"Beats me, Captain," Tom replied. "I'd like to take credit, but I didn't do anything. And we're still stuck. Warp engines have shut down."

"So have sensors. Engineering reports unsuccessful attempts to re-establish the warp field," Harry added.

"Let's hope Seven has something down in Astrometrics." She touched her comlink. "Janeway to Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine here, Captain."

"Do you have any information on what's happening to us?"

"One moment, Captain." Seven's fingers danced over her console. "Astrometric sensors are offline. I am compensating."

A moment later, a wireframe image of the space around Voyager appeared on the display in front of Seven. She studied the readings, an eyebrow arching at what she saw.

"Captain, I suggest you report to Astrometrics. Bring Mr. Paris with you."

Tom turned and shared a questioning look with Janeway. She shrugged and said, "Let's go, Mr. Paris. Chakotay, you have the bridge."

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Chapter 3

"What did you say?" A startled Laura spun on her heel to face him. He still looked dead to the world.

Then his lips twitched.

"... good teacher and..." he mumbled.

"And what?"

"... criminal ... instincts..."

Laura stood there, brow furrowed, trying to work out what to make of this statement. Was he coming out of it already? Was the doctor wrong about the time it would take? When she realized what was indeed occurring, her eyes opened wide, then her expression melted into a knowing grin.

"The doctor said they gave you CS-12 and that you won't remember a thing. Do you know what CS-12 is?"

His eyes remained shut, but she saw his jaw tense as he prepared to speak.

"... truth ... agent..."

"That's right." As she contemplated the delicious possibilities, she absentmindedly chucked him on the shoulder, jarring him. "And now you're going to..."

His face turned greenish, and his breathing got heavy. Laura backed away fast, crossing her fingers. When his breathing returned to normal, she finished her thought.

"And now you're going to answer a few questions." She glanced around for a chair, then added, "As soon as I find a clean chair."

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"As soon as I get a comfy chair and my tape recorder."

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"As soon as..."

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"As soon as I find a chair that I'm sure hasn't been in this room."

***

"Seven, what have you found?" Janeway asked as she and Tom entered Astrometrics.

"A most unusual phenomenon, Captain." The screen in front of them showed swirling eddied and bursts of light in white, blue, and yellow. "These are gravimetric whirlpools."

"What are the flashes?" Tom asked.

Seven answered, "Radiation surges of an unknown type. However, these are not the reason I requested your assistance. There is a more perplexing issue."

She touched the console. The screen changed from radiation fireworks to the wireframe image. One corner of the screen showed constantly updating spatial readings.

"This diagram shows the underlying curvature of local space."

Both Captain Janeway and Tom immediately recognized the shape.

"A wormhole."

"Yes, Captain. And before you inquire, it is not a hologram, a sensor malfunction, or any other deception."

"So let me guess," Tom said sarcastically. "It's either too small or too unstable to go through. Or better yet, it goes in the wrong direction."

"Incorrect," Seven responded. "The wormhole is rather small, no larger than this room on the opposite end, but it is passable. Our presence in its gravimetric eddies appears to have stabilized it." Seven paused before adding, "And it goes precisely in the right direction."

The captain said, "I get the feeling you're holding something back."

"And what do you need me for?" Tom added.

Before answering, Seven brought up the sensor readings to the main screen. Tachyon emissions from the wormhole were astronomical.

"Captain, according to sensors, the wormhole leads directly to Earth."

"So what's the bad news?" asked Tom.

"According to atmospheric readings, the wormhole terminates sometime between the atomic detonations in Japan during Earth's Second World War and the worldwide detonations during Earth's Third World War. Because I could only restore limited sensors, I require Mr. Paris' expertise on that era to determine the exact year."

Captain Janeway gave the ceiling a 'Why us?' look. 

   [1]: http://www.astone.homestead.com/doubleedgedsteele.html



	2. Part 2

Temporal Steele **__**

Temporal Steele — Part 2

by [AMY STONE][1]

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Chapter 4

Captain Janeway headed for the door.

"I'll be in Engineering trying to get all the systems restored."

As she rounded a corner, Chakotay joined her, heading in the same direction.

"I just spoke to B'Elanna," he began. "Apparently, there's some kind of radiation outside that's affecting the warp core."

"That's just the beginning."

Chakotay and Janeway entered Engineering. The room was in chaos. B'Elanna was at a console in front of the warp core punching at it with gloved hands and shouting orders. Each time a crew member touched a screen, a burst of white caused them to jerk away.

Over her shoulder, B'Elanna called, "Captain, I'm glad you're here. That radiation has found a way into the ship. The only way to safely touch the consoles is through the gloves from a survival suit, and even then I can't touch them for long. Voice commands are having no effect here."

Captain Janeway asked Chakotay, "Are there reports of this happening elsewhere on the ship?"

"No, Captain." He looked at a display, careful not to get too close to it. "The radiation appears to be attracted to the core."

B'Elanna said, "I'm doing everything I can think of. Vorek is in the Jeffries tubes isolating the Engineering circuitry just in case the radiation decides to spread. He should be back soon."

Chakotay turned to the captain. "So, what do we do?"

Captain Janeway raised her eyebrows.

"All we can do is gather more information for now. We'll eject the core if it comes to that."

Before her first officer could respond, Vorek returned. He greeted them as he walked over to B'Elanna.

She asked, "Done already?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. I have switched all power to Engineering to emergency backup, as well as rerouted all circuitry. Engineering is isolated."

"Good. See if you can get voice commands back online."

"Very well," Vorek intoned. He turned away and walked directly to an open console. As he touched it, a white bolt jumped from it, causing him to leap back.

B'Elanna smiled to herself.

"And don't touch anything without gloves," she called.

***

Laura sat in a rusty folding chair. She screwed up her face in a mixture of thought, confusion, and disbelief.

"I can't think of a thing to ask," she said aloud.

One slack arm slid from its resting place atop his chest and hung down, brushing Laura's knee as it swung. She replaced it gently and silently wished there had been some lecherous intent behind the touch. Then she could have let him have it. Or maybe, she thought, I could have just forgiven his solo foray into a very dangerous situation and fallen into his arms. At this idea, a question came to her.

"Do I infuriate, confuse, and confound you as much as you do to me?"

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"Well, Laura, do I?"

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She sat next to him, stoking his hair, wishing she could kiss him. Whatever was bothering him enough to make him go off alone could wait. The doctor said there was a chance that moving him could cause nausea. How much movement could one kiss cause? She decided to chance it.

As she leaned down, she could smell him. Days of being drugged and probably worse had not changed his scent. Muskier, perhaps, but she liked that.

She jerked away. She hated that he had this effect on her, even when he was unconscious, but he was unconscious. He'd never know.

She leaned back down, gently brushing her lips against his. As she drew away, she had the impression that he moved. She studied him for a minute, then decided to kiss him again to find out.

She was definitely being kissed back, if only very slightly.

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"Won't remember a thing, huh?" Laura sighed in spite of herself. "I guess I have to ask the big question sometime."

She wandered the room, trying not to breathe in too much in some places. When she returned to his side, she took his hand and drew herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders.

"Why do you no, wait. If we ever Have youAre you going to" Laura threw up her arms in disgust. "Now I'm the one who can't make a commitment."

Just do it; just ask. He won't remember, she thought. I'm afraid of the answer. But am I afraid of a yes' or a no' ?

She spoke before she could talk herself out of it.

"Do you l"

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Through a thick black fog he heard his name. It's strange, he thought. Why do I consider this name mine when I know it isn't? Why have I had to think before answering to any other name but this one?

After hearing it repeated thrice more, his addled brain identified the speaker.

"Laura, it's you! Thank God you didn't find me before the police did. Then we'd both be"

He did not bother to finish his sentence. The words were in his head, but they weren't making it out.

He felt her stroke his hair. He heard, "You'll be ok," but couldn't decide if she said it or if he did or if he just got that general impression from the idea of Laura sitting with him, quietly holding his hand. He decided it didn't matter and squeezed her hand, though he could not tell if the impulse actually made it to his fingers.

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Just do it; just ask. If she does remember, as the doctor said she might, so be it. Take the chance. Say it!

He couldn't do it. Pacing again, he asked himself why. He already knew her answer. He was worried about what he would do with confirmation from her own lips. He was scared.

So he paced. And he thought. Finally, he pulled the rusted chair over next to Laura, but he did not immediately sit. Hesitation overwhelmed him and he walked out of the room, leaving her unconscious and alone.

Remington Steele's face was blank as he opened the front door and stepped out. He took a deep breath as a wave of emotion hit him. Now he sat. The concrete steps were thick with dust and decaying leaves, but he did not try to brush the grime away. His first clear thought was that the setting matched his mood, his behavior, and his jumbled feelings. He leaned gingerly against the ancient iron railing, testing it. When it did not give way, he rested his head and shoulder against it and sighed.

"I'd like to ask myself a few questions with that truth agent," he muttered.

He knew why Laura had come here alone. Faced these people without backup. Without him.

Three weeks ago he had almost said it. She was there with him in his apartment. She had appeared at his door unannounced with a bottle of champagne. No case, no occasion, no date for dinner, and no explanation. It was raining, flashes of lightning threatening in the distance and getting closer. He had answered the door in his bathrobe.

"Laura! What a pleasant surprise." What an understatement, he thought. If that dress were any more 

"Good evening, Mr. Steele."

"Come in, come in." He stepped aside to let her pass, his back almost touching the entryway wall. She took two steps, just enough to let the door close behind her. They stood there, inches apart, for a moment. He was not sure what to do, and his face betrayed it. His brow furrowed, but the corners of his mouth went up in amusement at the confusion and electricity of the moment. Then she walked past him.

"I'll put this on ice." She reappeared out of the kitchen a moment later with an ice bucket and two glasses.

"What's the occasion?" he asked as he headed to the bedroom to dress.

"There isn't one," she called after him. "It's after ten. You don't have to change on my account."

He poked his head out of the bedroom door, his face covered in the same confusion as when she came in. Bucket of champagne, fabulous dress, and she didn't mind if he stayed in his robe? What was she up to? He knew better than to hope, but he couldn't help it. He pulled on trousers and a shirt anyway.

When he opened the bedroom door, she was right there, pretending to study the framed movie posters she had seen a thousand times before.

"Laura? Is something wrong?" He touched her shoulder, turning her to face him.

His answer came as she drew him into a kiss. For a moment, he thought he should push her away and drag whatever it was out of her, but her kiss was so urgent and her scent so intoxicating that he couldn't do it. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing her deeply, letting her draw him into this moment.

The kiss continued, and his arms were so close around her that all he had to do was lean back slightly to pick her up. Against every fiber of his being, he carried her to the sofa instead of the bedroom.

When he put her down, their lips finally parted. Each studied the other's eyes. She lifted her head to kiss him again. Before she could, he spoke.

"Laura, why don't we sit?" What was he saying?

She seemed startled by this. She sat down. He did not sit next to her. His brain was telling him this was not right, even if other parts of him were telling him to ignore his brain. He perched on the coffee table in front of her.

Neither said a word. They stared at their respective shoes, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I need a drink," she finally said.

"Amen to that," he said with as much of a laugh as he could muster while his mind raced and he tried to think rationally about what was happening here.

He popped the cork, letting the foam wash over his hand. He poured two very full glasses and handed one to Laura before taking a long drink. Why is she here?' and What is she up to?' changed to Why did I carry her to the sofa?' and Did she want me to carry her to the sofa?' along with an impulse he couldn't define. He chose to ignore this unknown impetus.

"Mr. Steele," she finally said.

He waited for her to continue, but she was silent.

"Yes, Laura?" He took her hands in his.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

She hesitated. "Carry me here instead of"

"Laura, I know you too well. Something is wrong."

She squeezed his hands and moved forward, her face once again very close to his. "Actually, it's not."

The confusion was back, but without the smirk. She went on.

"I realized something today."

"What was that?"

She said nothing. Her lips parted in preparation to speak, but nothing came out. She let go of his hand and picked up her glass. She drained it and he refilled it.

Quietly, she said, "I need you." A beat, then stronger, "I need you."

Nothing is wrong. She needs me. She said it. Now or never, Steele, he thought. Tell her.

"Laura, I"

She didn't let him finish. Damn her for not letting him say it.

"Run away if you have to, but," she whispered, "not tonight."

Something isn't right here. It's a dream. Wake up, he thought. A moment ago, he was ready to say it. Now it was different. His earlier impulse was coming into focus. She wanted him, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it because he knew he would stay.

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blip

The concrete steps were thick with dust and decaying leaves, but she did not try to brush the grime away. Her first clear thought was that the setting matched her mood and her jumbled feelings. She leaned gingerly against the ancient iron railing, testing it. When it did not give way, she rested her head and shoulder against it and sighed.

She knew why he had come here alone. Faced these people without backup. Without her.

Three weeks ago she had almost said it. She was there with him in his apartment. She had appeared at his door unannounced with a bottle of champagne. No case, no occasion, no date for dinner, and no explanation. It was raining, flashes of lightning threatening in the distance and getting closer. He had answered the door in his bathrobe.

"Laura! What a pleasant surprise."

Ditto, she thought, but you look a lot more than pleasant' in that robe.

"Good evening, Mr. Steele."

"Come in, come in." He stepped aside to let her pass, his back almost touching the entryway wall. She took two steps, just enough to let the door close behind her. They stood there, inches apart, for a moment. His brow furrowed, but the corners of his mouth went up in amusement at the confusion and electricity of the moment. Then she walked past him.

Courage, Laura, she thought.

"I'll put this on ice." She reappeared out of the kitchen a moment later with an ice bucket and two glasses.

"What's the occasion?" he asked as he headed to the bedroom to dress.

"There isn't one," she called after him. Take a deep breath, Laura. "It's after ten. You don't have to change on my account."

He poked his head out of the bedroom door, his face covered in the same confusion as when she came in. Bucket of champagne, new dress she had spent days shopping for, and she didn't mind if he stayed in his robe? What else could he think? Give him every opening, she thought. He shut the door. She put her ear to it; she could hear him changing anyway.

When he opened the bedroom door, she was right there, pretending to study the framed movie posters she had seen a thousand times before.

"Laura? Is something wrong?" He touched her shoulder, turning her to face him.

Not a damn thing, she thought. She could not waste precious time talking now, so she gave him his answer physically. For a moment, she thought he was going to push her away, but she needed him so much right now that she could not let him do it. He gave in, wrapping his arms tightly around her, kissing her deeply. She pressed against him, relishing the feel of her body against his, overwhelmed by the release that her decision gave her.

The kiss continued, and his arms were so close around her that all he had to do was lean back slightly to pick her up. Oh my God, she thought. This is it. Release was replaced by excitement.

When he put her down, their lips finally parted. Each studied the other's eyes. She lifted her head to kiss him again. Before she could, he spoke.

"Laura, why don't we sit?" What was he saying?

She was startled by this. She was so involved in her feelings she did not realize where he had carried her. After glancing around, she sat down. He did not sit next to her. What had she done wrong? He perched on the coffee table in front of her.

Neither said a word. They stared at their respective shoes, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I need a drink," she finally said. The size of California, she added mentally.

"Amen to that," he said with a half-hearted laugh.

He popped the cork, letting the foam wash over his hand. He poured two very full glasses and handed one to Laura before taking a long drink. Her mind raced: It was her perfume. She had come on too strong. He had a woman hiding in the bedroom.

"Mr. Steele," she finally said. She stopped to consider her next sentence.

"Yes, Laura?" He took her hands in his. She wished his hands were anywhere else.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

She hesitated. "Carry me here instead of"

"Laura, I know you too well. Something is wrong."

She squeezed his hands and moved forward, her face once again very close to his. "Actually, it's not."

The confusion was back, but without the smirk. She went on.

"I realized something today." Thank you long rainy days, romance novels, and that rose you gave me in my office yesterday.

"What was that?"

She said nothing. Her lips parted in preparation to speak, but nothing came out. She let go of his hand and picked up her glass. She drained it and he refilled it.

Could she say it? What would he do? She decided to hedge her bet a little.

Quietly, she said, "I need you." A beat, then stronger, "I need you."

"Laura, I"

She didn't let him finish. She wasn't going to let him leave physically or emotionally right now.

"Run away if you have to, but," she whispered, "not tonight."

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

She was wrong.

__

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__

Chapter 5

Captain Janeway addressed her senior officers in the Briefing Room.

"As you all know by now, Voyager has encountered a wormhole. At this end, the wormhole has created gravimetric eddies which are holding us firmly in place. Nothing we have tried so far has been able to budge us. B'Elanna."

Voyager's chief engineer continued the briefing. "Yes, Captain. I've had the entire Engineering crew working doubletime. Now that we have voice control back, for the most part, the problem has become the radiation bursts. The Doctor assures me they aren't harmful to humanoids, other than giving an uncomfortable shock, but they are doing something to the warp core. What they're doing to the core isn't clear. I've got Vorek trying a few things to reestablish the warp field and get us out of here."

The captain rose before she spoke again, "Ok. Now for the question of where the wormhole leads. I have to commend Tom and Seven for keeping this under wraps. Go ahead, Mr. Paris."

"The more interesting question, as you know, Captain, is when the wormhole leads." He glanced around the table. "Because the where is Earth."

A collective gasp went out.

Oblivious to the shock and confusion on her crewmates' faces, Seven said, "Specifically, the wormhole terminates in the northwestern section of the United States sometime in the 1980s."

"How do you know that?" asked Chakotay.

Janeway added, "Yes, how? When I left you, you had it narrowed down to the twentieth century."

Tom rose and stood in front of the wall display.

"Since we couldn't narrow it down from our limited atmospheric sensor data, we launched a modified probe." He tapped the controls, bringing up an image of a sparse room. A dark-haired woman was sitting next to a table that contained an unconscious man whose face was partially blocked.

"We can only get this one angle, but it was enough."

Chakotay asked, "Are these images current?"

Tom answered, "Yes, sir. The woman's just been sitting there, apparently lost in thought."

"I don't see much here to indicate the year," stated the captain.

"You're not looking closely enough, Captain," Tom responded. "We may only be able to get one angle, but we can zoom in. First of all, there's the clothing. His collar is too narrow for this to be the 1970s, but it can't be any earlier. The file cabinet has only one label left on one drawer, and it says Fiscal Year 1969.' Then we got stuck."

"Correct," said Seven, moving to stand next to Tom. "However, if you look in the far corner of the room, there is a coin."

Tom finished, "It's shiny. Not worn, just dusty. And, thankfully, it's face-up." He focused the lens of the probe on it. "1983. For a coin to be in circulation and be in that condition, I'd put this between 1983 and 1987."

Chakotay said what they all were thinking,

"So, it's close, but no cigar. Again."

"It looks that way," sighed Tom.

A voice came over the com. "Vorek to Lieutenant Torres."

"Torres here. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Then go ahead." B'Elanna turned to the captain. "Vorek had an idea about how to get the warp field back up. We'll see if it works."

Vorek's voice came over the com once more.

"Establishing containment field. Re-initializing dilithium matrix. Generating warp field we have a stable field, Lieutenant."

Captain Janeway quickly gave Tom an order.

"Get us out of here, Mr. Paris."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Torres," Vorek reported, "but the field has collapsed."

Tom had only gotten two steps, so he stopped and returned to where he had been standing. He glanced at the display and did a double-take.

"Captain, look!"

The man and woman had changed places.

"I can't hear what he's saying. Seven, adjust the volume."

"Yes, Captain."

The man had his back to them as the woman had, but could hear him whisper, "Laura, Laura, Laura."

That was enough to make the captain's eyes go wide.

Then the man turned and began to pace, saying with a sideways smile, "So much CS-12, so little time. What to ask, what to ask?"

Captain Janeway rushed forward to study the man's face as he paced.

"Rory?" she asked incredulously.

Chakotay inquired, "Captain, what's wrong? You sound like you know him."

"It's impossible, but he looks and sounds exactly like someone I knew long ago."

Chakotay addressed Seven. "Has the time changed?"

"Negative, Commander. The 1983 quarter is still there."

"Maybe he's an ancestor of your friend."

The captain's eyes had not left the display until now. She turned to face her first officer.

"The resemblance is uncanny, but you're right. There's no way it could be him." She shrugged. "Chalk it up to cosmic coincidence, I suppose."

Harry asked, "What happened? Why did they change places?"

B'Elanna touched her com badge.

"Vorek, whatever you did, do it again."

"Aye, Lieutenant."

A moment passed, and the people from the past resumed their initial positions, with him laid out on the table.

Vorek reported, "The warp field has collapsed."

B'Elanna responded, "I thought so." She turned to the group. "Here's the way I see it. We're mired at this end of the wormhole. The radiation is causing the warp field to destabilize, and every time it does, it affects the opposite end."

Chakotay continued the thought, "Since even a small change that far back could have massive consequences in our present, we have to make sure we get out of this wormhole's eddies with these two," he pointed at the screen, "in as close to their original timeline as we can get. We'll have to be careful not to disturb it any more."

B'Elanna looked worried.

"But Chakotay, before this briefing, we tried to re-establish the warp field dozens of times. Who knows what the original time line really is?"

The room was silent for a moment.

"I have an idea, Captain," said Harry.

"Please, Mr. Kim," said the captain, indicating that the floor was his.

"Tom and I could create holodeck characters of these two, based on information from what we can see and what they've said. Maybe we can dig up some more in the database. If we can learn enough about them, maybe we can predict what they would have done in their current situation."

"Do it, and have the Doctor help you with this CS-12 substance. B'Elanna, keep working on getting us moving, but stick to simulations until Tom and Harry have something."

__

Chapter 6

"Mr. Steele? Mr. Steele, can you hear me?"

"Yes," came the slurred reply.

"You haven't said more than three words at a time to me since that night. You walked out, left me sitting in your apartment, then showed up at the office as usual. You went off on this case alone. If you were going to leave, I thought it would be physically, not mentally. I want an explanation."

"Can't hear you over the bandmake them stop"

Laura was not going to let herself be sidetracked, though this flight of fancy intrigued her. "Explain."

"Goldfinger theme on banjo"

She smiled.

"That's not what I meant." She stopped for a minute to stifle a laugh. "I meant, explain your behavior for the past few weeks."

"Bad fish"

Amazing, she thought. He's drugged to the gills and he still finds time to be a smartass. She wandered away from the table.

"Laura, don't leave me." His voice was clear.

She rushed back over.

"Are you coming out of it?"

"Canadian money irritates me" The slur had returned.

"I'll take that as a no'."

She walked away again.

"Laura!"

This time, she turned around, but did not waste the energy returning to his side.

"What now?"

"I want porkchops and applesauce."

"We'll see what we can do when you're up and around." So that's what he's been doing since that night, she thought. Brady Bunch reruns. She made a mental note to buy him a copy of every Cary Grant movie ever made to counteract this. Does that mean I forgive you, she wondered.

"Laura"

"What?" Reluctantly, she walked back over to him.

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

He was silent again, but his eyes opened. They remained unfocused and glassy, yet seemed to be searching for something. Laura moved the chair so she could sit where he could see her. Eventually, his eyes found her.

"I'm sorry, Laura."

You really should be, she thought.

"It's ok. I forgive you. But I do want that explanation," she said gently.

"Laura, I can't thinkhead is spinning"

"Close your eyes. It'll just take time."

He did close his eyes, but only for a minute.

"Why are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"After that night, I thought you'd hate me."

"Believe me, Mr. Steele, there were moments. I had a long time to think, what with you not speaking to me. I think I'm beginning to understand now, but I want to hear it from you."

"I don't know if I can explain." He brought one hand to his head and massaged his forehead. "My head is killing me."

"Mildred was worried sick, you know."

"Remind me to make it up to her."

"What about me?"

"You won't have to remind me." He moaned with the strain as he rolled over to one side. "Laura, help me sit up."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked as she put an arm around him.

"No, but my back is killing me. I need my own bed, not this glorified rack." He pulled Laura to him before she could let go. "Of course, your bed would work, too."

He ran his fingers through her hair, then stopped and drew back.

"If the offer still stands, that is."

"It might. Let's hear the explanation."

He kissed her gingerly. She leaned into him, forgiving him a little more with each touch. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how the glorified rack would feel

"Tell me," she whispered in his ear.

He stalled by kissing her neck, moving her collar aside to expose her shoulder.

"Laura," he whispered back, "I was scared."

She was desperately trying to listen. His hands were caressing her back, but he was still murmuring in her ear.

"You caught me off guard, but that was," he moved to nibble her ear, "very exciting."

"So what happened?" she breathed.

"I take it you want the truth."

She looked him in the eye. "Yes."

Remington Steele surprised her by not breaking her gaze. "I knew I would stay."

"Youyou what?" she gasped. This was not the explanation she was anticipating.

"You weren't expecting the truth, were you, Laura?"

"I don't know. I thought I was, but I wasn't expecting that."

"So, your place or mine?"

Laura tried to stifle a smile.

"What?" he asked.

"That will take a little time."

"Laura, a month ago I would havewhat's funny?"

She put a hand to his cheek and shook her head. "Do you have any idea where you are?"

He thought for a moment, but did not let her go. "Last I recall, I was in Hollywood. I was waiting for someone, so I took in a matinee of something. What was it?" He paused. "Well, whatever they gave me, it must have been strong if I can't remember that."

"You'll be ok."

She was still entangled in his arms when he drew her closer yet.

"I know." He moved his hands down her back, encircling her waist. "So, where are we?"

"Salem."

"Massachusetts or Oregon?"

"Oregon."

"Better call Fred. It'll take him a while to get here, but I think we can pass the time."

"There is a hotel downtown. Mildred made reservations when I left. I told her two rooms. We have to catch a plane tomorrow."

He was glancing about looking for what little he had to take with him. Coming up with nothing, what Laura said finally registered.

"Two rooms?"

Laura disentangled herself and crossed the room to pick up her bag.

"You know, I would bet the agency that one of the reservations got lost.' Mildred knows very well that we've been fighting."

Steele eased himself down from the table.

"Bless that woman."

Laura could see he was a little unsteady. She made sure he had a firm grasp of the table before heading down the block to find a payphone. When she returned, he was sitting on the concrete steps outside waiting for her. He put his arm around her shoulders as she sat down beside him.

The cab arrived shortly and delivered them to the hotel. Laura checked them in, and then they stepped into the elevator.

"Well?" he asked.

"One room. A suite on the top floor."

He nodded, shouldering her bag when they arrived at their floor.

A minute later, he tossed the bag onto the floor near the bed and Laura ushered him toward the bathroom to clean off four days' worth of grime, blood, and stubble.

"Laura?" he called.

"Right here."

"I could use a bandage or two," he said, studying his bruised shoulders and the needle marks in both arms.

"I'll see what I can do. Be right back."

He waited until he heard the elevator doors close to open wide the taps to fill the whirlpool. When it was full, he stripped off his trousers, started the jets, and eased his battered body into the water.

Laura returned and placed a bag of pharmaceuticals and a bag of hamburgers on the nightstand. She could hear the tub, so she walked into the bathroom to help him with his wounds and get him to eat something. The day had taken its toll. He was asleep, four days' growth still on his face.

She understood his exhaustion, but there was no way she could get into bed without him that night. She left her clothes in a pile and got in with him, careful not to wake him. Yet.

__

blip

blip

blip

***

"Vorek, what the hell are you doing?" B'Elanna yelled. 

   [1]: http://www.astone.homestead.com/doubleedgedsteele.html



	3. Part 3

Temporal Steele **__**

Temporal Steele — Part 3

by [AMY STONE][1]

__

Chapter 7

The Doctor sat in his office, half-heartedly touching the screen in front of him.

"There are no records of such a drug anywhere," he muttered.

"What was that, Doc?"

The Doctor looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Kim, I didn't hear you come in. I was just saying that I can't find any reference to a drug called CS-12 or one causing these particular symptoms." He rose in frustration and began pacing. "I don't know what else to do."

"We figured you were stuck. We're waiting for Seven to transfer more personality data from her observations, so I thought I'd come see what the delay was. What have you got so far?"

The Doctor turned the screen on his desk so they could both see it. As he spoke, he poked at it.

"Civilian and military medical and biological warfare records for North America from about 1800 to the present. I realize records from the era in question are fragmentary, but there should be some reference."

Harry nodded. "I agree. You might be looking in the wrong place."

"Oh?"

"According to the database, the Remington Steele Agency often worked with Interpol and for people with business on other continents. Most of the work, from what Tom and I can tell, was done in the United States, but not all of it. Start with Ireland."

"What's special about Ireland?" asked the Doctor as he sat down again, ready to throw himself back into his research.

"Steele's Irish," Harry replied simply. He headed for the door. "Let us know when you have something."

"Of course, Mr. Kim." The Doctor was already in another world.

Harry smiled and headed for the Holographic Research Lab. As he strode down the corridors, he nodded hellos to passing crew members. When he reached the door to the lab, he barely stopped himself before running headlong into it.

Confused, he stated, "Computer, open the door."

When the door did not open, he touched his com badge.

"Kim to Paris." Harry waited a moment, then repeated, "Kim to Paris."

He was raising a fist to pound on the door when the Doctor, smiling broadly, came jogging up.

"Mr. Kim, you're a genius. The minute you said Interpol,' I remembered a cross-reference"

Harry interrupted, "That's great, Doc, but can it wait? The door won't open and Tom isn't answering the com."

"Computer, locate Mr. Paris."

The Doctor got no response.

"Well, Doc, I guess voice commands are still offline. Help me open this door."

The two struggled to force the door open. When it finally yielded, they were greeted with a pitch black room.

"Tom, are you in here?" Harry called.

"Yeah, I'm in here," came the nonplussed reply.

"Where are you? The lights aren't working."

Tom's voice came back, "Just go down to Holodeck Two and ask B'Elanna to let me out."

"Let you out?" the Doctor asked. "What do you mean?"

"She's got me behind a forcefield. Don't ask."

Harry chuckled and said, "I'll go talk to her. Be right back."

When Harry had gone, Tom asked, "Hey, Doc, can't you make yourself glow or something? It's dark in here."

"I'm a doctor, not a flashlight, Mr. Paris."

A moment passed, then the lights suddenly came on, the door hissed shut, and the forcefield surrounding Tom vanished.

"Well, that's a relief," Tom sighed as he stepped out of his corner and over to the lab's controls. "Now maybe we can get some work done." He began to press buttons, bringing up full-size holograms of Remington Steele and Laura Holt.

Harry re-entered the room just as they appeared.

"You have got to make peace with that woman!" he said to Tom. "Well, hello," he said to Laura's static form.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Tom scolded. "Hologram, remember?"

"Just admiring the view," Harry responded as he took his place near Tom and the Doctor.

The Doctor took the opportunity to recount his research.

"As I was saying, Mr. Kim, the minute you said Interpol,' I remembered a cross-reference regarding US Navy interest in a French Foreign Legion experiment on"

"Interesting combination," Tom interjected.

"experiment on," the Doctor repeated, raising his voice and eyeing Tom, "truth agents. The French refused to share the drug citing unpredictability issues.' The Navy acquired the drug through an Icelandic agent"

"Come on, you're making this up," Tom snickered.

The Doctor ignored him and continued, "and hid the records of all testing with the files for a decommissioned battleship."

"So, what are we dealing with here?" Harry asked.

The Doctor hesitated.

"It depends."

"On what?" asked Tom.

"Metabolism, dosage, body weight, state of mind upon injection, whether the injection was intramuscular or intravenous"

"Sounds relatively routine."

"Yes, but subtle changes in any one of those can change the side-effects from sleeplessness to nausea to high-grade fever, paralysis, coma, or brain damage."

"You did say unpredictability issues,'" said Harry.

Tom saw the dilemma. "So how do we program that?"

"I don't think we need to," Harry said.

"But Harry, the situation they're in is directly related to the drug and its effects."

"No, it's not." Harry sounded like he was presenting his ideas to the captain. "In every incarnation we've observed, the side effects have not been all that bad: disorientation, nausea, slurred speech. Unfortunately, that limits our information on Steele, since he's been the one on the table the most often, but I think those are the only symptoms we need to worry about."

Tom said, "I guess you're right. But we also don't know who gave it to him or why."

Harry continued, "They've never discussed any details of this case that got them into this or any other people in their lives except for Mildred, who must be their secretary. It's all personal. The problem is that we don't know what they said or did when they left the only room we can monitor. Or what they're thinking."

"So what do we know?" asked the Doctor.

Tom recited the short list. "The case that got them into this is closed. They argue a lot. In one timeline, it became clear that they are lovers."

"Incorrect."

Seven's voice over the com startled the three men.

She continued, "I have been monitoring your conversation. Until Mr. Paris' last statement, I had no new information to add."

Tom defended his observation.

"But Seven, they were having a very intimate conversation and were pretty physical about it."

"I have monitored the situation since you went to the holodeck. Mr. Vorek caused another jump in the timeline. This time it is the woman who is drugged. The man has made it clear that she will remember nothing this time, and he has taken advantage of this situation."

"In what way?"

"He has spoken at length regarding their current relationship. They are not lovers, nor have they admitted they love each other."

"That certainly makes their relationship more interesting. Any idea how long they've been working together?"

"Approximately four years."

"Any idea how long they've been personally involved?"

"They have been personally involved since shortly after they met."

Harry muttered, "At least I'm not the only one who gets into strange situations with women."

"I am updating the holomatrix to reflect this data. I will continue monitoring." Seven of Nine signed off.

"Well Doc, I think you can head back to Sick Bay," Tom said. "It doesn't take three people to program nothing."

"Very well, Mr. Paris. If I come up with anything more specific about CS-12, I'll let you know."

Harry turned to Tom.

"So, what simulations should we run?"

"Based on what, Harry? All we know is what they look like, that it's her agency, that they've danced around each other for four years, and that they win top honors for ear splitting fights. What does that tell us?"

"That they're in love."

"I meant what does that tell us about their original timeline," Tom returned as he began programming the limited data.

***

Dressed in a dark blue suit with a tan overcoat draped over one arm, Remington Steele swept through the double glass doors bearing his name.

The receptionist had just answered the phone.

"Counterfeit paintings getting you down?

Maybe your husband's been fooling around.

Got some jewels you don't want swiped?

Some old actress threatened you with a knife?

Tell us your troubles and don't start to pout,

Steele and Holt will figure it out."

"Is she in, Mildred?" He was making a strained attempt to be civil.

The young woman behind the desk cupped her hand over the receiver before answering.

"Yes, Mr. Steele. Let me announce you."

He stopped in front of her and pointed at the blue stenciling on the door.

"Whose name is that?" he asked, his volume rising.

"Yours, sir," Mildred answered sheepishly.

"So I'll go wherever I want."

"Yes, Mr. Steele."

Instead of turning right to go to his own office, he strode past the desks of their three employees to the windowless oak door to his left.

He did not bother to knock.

"Any new cases, Miss Holt?" he asked, slamming the door behind him.

Laura looked disheveled and had dark circles under her eyes.

"You know there aren't. And you could have knocked."

"Why? You would have just locked me out."

He pushed a pile of papers aside and sat on the desk right in front of her.

She looked disgusted. "You shouldn't be surprised. You always give me such good reasons."

"What's the excuse today? Last night was going so well."

"You know, Mr. Steele, you can't just show up on my doorstep and expect me to fall into bed with you."

"You always give me such good reasons," he countered.

"What does that mean?"

He ignored her question.

"You've been here all night, haven't you, Laura? Pressing case more interesting than an evening with me?" His volume rose as he hopped off the desk and began to wave his arms. "No, that couldn't be. We don't have any cases at the moment."

Her voice rose to match.

"Maybe we would if you didn't spend all your time carousing and"

"Is that what this is about? You won't give me the time of day, then you get upset when I go looking for someone who will!"

She jumped up out of her chair and chased him to the door.

"Just get out!"

He headed out in front of the employees, opened his office door, and fired back, "Wait five minutes; you'll be back."

"You're delusional! I never want to speak to you again!"

"If that's the way you want to play it, fine!"

"Fine!" She slammed her office door.

He screwed up his face in frustration and slammed his door.

***

"Tuvok, what's going on?" Captain Janeway watched as the radiation bursts on the viewscreen began to multiply and stream toward Voyager.

"Unknown. The radiation appears to be attracted to the ship."

"Why is it dividing?"

"Again, unknown."

"Chakotay, is it causing any damage?"

"None at all."

The captain settled back in her chair, still uneasy.

***

"Harry, does this seem right to you?"

"No, it doesn't, but I can't put my finger on what's wrong."

"Let's stop the simulation."

Harry popped a panel off the front of the oblivious secretary's desk and froze the characters.

Tom sighed. "Now what?"

"Let's tone it down a little. Something about the argument didn't seem like them."

"We should change the setting, too. It's strictly guesswork on these employees, the office, and the cases. All we know is personal, so let's stick to that."

"Ok. Suggestions?"

"How about," Tom started, already reprogramming, "a quiet evening at home?"

***

"That's strange." Chakotay rose from his chair and approached the viewscreen.

"What's that, Commander?" Captain Janeway asked.

"The radiation is leaving the hull and dissipating back into the eddies."

"Keep an eye on it."

__

Chapter 8

Laura Holt was at the sink, finishing the evening's dishes. The rest of the house was dark, as were the other houses on the suburban tree-lined street. Children's bikes were lying in the driveway, forgotten until morning. A silver Corvette was parked across the street, its occupant's head turned toward the house.

After drying the last plate, she placed it in the cupboard, then turned to the island where a half-drunk glass of cheap Chardonnay sat. She took a sip, then replaced the glass and returned to the sink to let the water out. As she did, a face at the kitchen window startled her out of her routine.

"Hi."

Laura closed her eyes briefly to calm herself.

"What are you doing here? Do you know Mother and the boys are asleep upstairs?"

"Where else would they be?" Remington Steele flashed a smile. "Can I come in?"

"No, you may not come in," Laura stage whispered, drying her hands. Quietly, she opened the kitchen door and joined him on the patio.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"No reason. Can't a guy drop by without having some ulterior motive?"

"I suppose, but dropping by' usually means the front door and a decent hour."

"Ok, I'll come back later." He made as if to leave.

She put a hand on his sleeve, stopping him.

"Mother would see you."

"You know, someday you're going to have to formally introduce me."

"I wouldn't know where to begin explaining you to my mother." Shyly, she smiled and pecked him on the cheek.

He put his arms around her.

"You know, Laura Holt, you should think about that."

"What?" she asked, gently stroking his cheek.

"Explaining me to your mother." He kissed her lightly on the lips.

***

"Tom, what did you do? This isn't them. Mother and the boys'?"

"We don't know about their families. What's wrong with checking out a domestic situation?"

"Nothing," Harry answered, "I guess. Let's give it a minute."

***

"I don't think we're ready for that."

He stepped back, keeping his hands on her waist.

"But Laura, I don't understand. We work together. You can't keep saying I'm out of town or that I function best in an advisory capacity' whenever your mother wonders why you work cases alone."

"When was the last time I worked a case alone?"

"That's what you tell your mother."

"How do you know that?" She pushed his hands from her hips.

"Phillip likes my car, remember? We talk. I still don't know why you're hiding our relationship from your mother when she knows better and I spend my Saturdays with the boys talking about shooting hoops." Almost to himself, he added, "I wish I knew exactly what a hoop is."

"My mother wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Us."

"Why?" He folded his arms across his chest, but kept his voice even.

Laura opened her mouth, but could not come up with an answer. Instead, she patted his hand.

"Laura, I don't understand. All I ever hear is that you want our relationship to go forward. Don't you think that would involve telling your mother?" His voice lowered almost to a whisper. He knew how she reacted when he did that. He watched her soften.

"I worry about your motives," she finally said.

He took her in his arms again.

"Laura, you don't have anything to worry about."

"How do I know that?"

"You have to trust me."

"Trust you?" She looked up into his eyes. "I need more time."

***

"Well, Harry, did that argument seem right to you?"

"It wasn't really much of an argument compared to what we've seen so far, was it?" Harry said sheepishly. He thought for a moment, then gave Tom a friendly shove. "Hey, you programmed it."

Tom laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I toned it down too much. What next?"

__

Chapter 9

Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, and the rest of the crew on the bridge watched in puzzlement as the bursts of radiation seemed to flock toward the ship, then recede into the depths of the wormhole. This sequence repeated every five to fifteen minutes.

"Explanation?" the captain asked, flummoxed.

Her answer was shrugs, shaking heads, and an arched eyebrow.

She swatted her com badge.

"Senior officers to the Briefing Room." Quietly, to Chakotay, "I'd love to know what's going on here."

***

"dozens of simulations, and in every one, they end up arguing," Harry finished.

"Thank you, Ensign." Captain Janeway turned to B'Elanna. "Lieutenant Torres, have you had any luck?"

"Yes, Captain." She rose and began to explain. "Each time we try to establish a warp field, it collapses. As far as that goes, there's nothing we can do. We can, however, break free of the gravitational eddies, then use impulse engines to take us far enough out to get a stable field."

"How do we do that?" Chakotay asked.

"I can modify a photon torpedo to emit a graviton pulse. The inverse frequency of the eddies will have to be matched precisely. Inertial dampers will have to be reinforced, but I think we can do it."

"Get to it," the captain ordered. "While you modify the torpedo, I want Tom and Harry back in the holodeck. I want to be absolutely sure about the timeline in which we're leaving our new friends."

***

"Let's try the office again," Tom offered.

"Sounds good."

Harry and Tom stopped next to the holodeck's door. Harry began tapping the panel on its left.

"What should it be this time?" he asked. "New client? Old flame? Dry spell? Flooded with cases?"

"We've tried all those. We have to come up with something else. How about"

Tom could not finish his sentence. As Harry programmed, blue and yellow radiation bursts flooded the ship. The panel exploded in a shower of sparks, knocking him across the corridor.

"Paris to Sick Bay. Medical emergency!"

The radiation continued to surge throughout the interior of the holodeck. The matrix pulsed and sizzled as the blue light traversed it. Each character sputtered, flashed, and dematerialized in turn. When the torrent reached Steele and Laura's inert duplicates, they did not fade. The radiation pooled and bristled.

"Laura, why do I suddenly know how to play the clarinet?"

***

Janeway, Chakotay, and Tom gathered around a biobed.

"Doctor," Captain Janeway began, "how is he?"

"Unconscious, but stable. His neural and biological functions are normal. He'll have a headache once he comes around. The radiation does not appear to have caused any damage, other than throwing him into the wall. The wall is the cause of the injury, not the radiation."

"Thank you, Doctor." She turned to Chakotay. "That explains the lack of injury reports from the rest of the ship."

Chakotay nodded. "I think we should get out of here before something like this happens again."

"Agreed." She delicately addressed Tom. "Were you able to run any more simulations before this happened?"

"No, Captain. We were just about to when the panel exploded."

Chakotay said, "Harry is in good hands. Why don't we head down to the holodeck and run a few more simulations while B'Elanna finishes her modifications?"

Tom drew in a breath. The captain put her hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get out of here, Tom."

"Aye, Captain."

Tom and Chakotay walked to the holodeck.

"Let's get this thing going," Tom said with a new resolve.

Chakotay tapped the lifeless panel.

"We're going to have to do it from inside."

"That won't be easy," Tom said, trying the door. "The door isn't working."

"We'll have to force it open."

Inside the holodeck, Laura crouched under the arch, her ear pressed to the door.

"They're back. Suggestions?"

Remington Steele looked up from the panel in the receptionist's desk.

"I'm still trying to sort this out. You know how I am with computers. I wonder if there's a spanner somewhere in here," he indicated the strange surroundings that were supposed to be their offices, "you can use to jam it."

"This thing doesn't have a doorknob or hinges. It slides, like an elevator door."

Steele's eyes searched for an option. He found none.

Laura called, "How about a giant staple?"

"Thinking like a starship officer, eh, Laura?" He glanced around again. "Try the chair."

Laura trotted over to the piece of modern furniture he indicated. She broke off the flimsy one-piece seat and back and quickly inspected the remaining angular metal frame.

"Help me with this."

Steele abandoned the panel and grabbed the chair. He and Laura put their weight behind it and pierced the inner door panel.

"Pretty poor construction given the century, I'd say," Steele said.

"I just hope nothing pokes through the other side."

"We'll know in a minute."

They watched, hoping they did not see their makeshift lock start to move. When it did not, Laura put her ear back against the door.

"What do you hear?"

She held up her hand.

"Just a discussion. Sounds like Tom and Chakotay."

"I've locked out external changes, but it won't take them long to think of sending the Doctor in here. We've got to find a place to hide and a way to keep them from shutting down the holodeck."

"We could just talk to the captain."

"We haven't figured out what our non-corporeal friends outside the ship have in mind yet."

Laura walked over and crouched next to him. "Can you do anything about this office? I just can't think here."

"That I can do." He started to tap the panel. "Where to?"

"The office?"

"How about my apartment?"

"How about the office?"

"Maui? You know, Laura, a moonlit white sand beach would be the perfect setting to relax and sort this out."

"You never cease to amaze me. We're thousands of light years from Earth, hundreds of years from the 80swe're hologramsand you're still making passes."

He flashed an uncertain smile.

"You don't sound as miffed about that as you usually do."

He extended a finger and reached for the panel. A centimeter away, he hesitated.

"Laura?"

She allowed herself a small smile.

"Ok."

He decided not to give her the opportunity to change her mind. He touched the screen.

The unfamiliar office around them melted into a surf-kissed beach complete with palms, starred sky, and distant craggy cliffs. His jacket and tie disappeared. His sleeves and pantlegs morphed from pressed to rolled up. Her pantsuit changed to a flowered skirt, with a sleeveless blouse knotted at her midriff. While Laura took in the view, he took in her.

Against his better judgment, he asked, "Why did you let me bring you here?"

"Like I said, we're holograms and you're still making passes." She turned away from the sea, toward him, and put her arms around him. "It's comforting to have something familiar."

"No other reason?"

"Such as?"

"Three weeks ago, by our flesh and blood counterparts' count, you said something in my apartment. What was it?" He feigned ignorance, hoping to hear her say it again.

Laura did not answer. She let go of him, her face lighting up. She snapped her fingers.

"That's it!"

"What's it, Laura?"

"Why Voyager is being held here and why we're here."

He waited for her to continue, but she was lost in thought.

"Laura, don't keep me in suspense."

"Seven has been monitoring us in Oregon. Harry and Tom were trying to determine what timeline we should be left in. We keep arguing."

He nodded. "Sounds like us."

"Maybe we're not supposed to."

   [1]: http://www.astone.homestead.com/doubleedgedsteele.html



	4. Part 4

Temporal Steele **__**

Temporal Steele — Part 4

by [AMY STONE][1]

__

Chapter 10

"Laura," he whispered, pulling her close once more, "kiss me."

"Now is not the time. We're on to something."

"We have a visitor," he said, managing to nibble on her ear and indicate the intruder's location at the same time. "Remember that holodeck characters are supposed to be unaware."

She glanced down the beach.

"It's the Doctor. What should we do?"

He was occupied with the nape of her neck.

"Mr. Steele, what should we do?"

He murmured in her ear.

"What? Are you saying we should"

"Remember, Laura. Unaware."

"We can't do that!"

"If we don't, we have some fast talking to do. Are you ready to talk to the captain?"

"Maybe we should."

"And tell her what?"

She hesitated.

"We don't have any choice, Laura."

"Where's the panel?"

"Behind that palm tree."

"Let's do it."

Laura watched his face. She could sense the innuendo he was working on.

"Don't even say it."

"As you wish, Laura." He took her hand and led her behind a dune. They peered back toward the beach. As they expected, the Doctor had stopped. He stood there uncertainly, his cheeks turning slightly red.

Laura said, "He's either going to steel himself and head for the panel or transfer himself out of here."

"Then we better do it."

The Doctor took a deep breath and charged over the sand.

They were gone.

__

Chapter 11

"Doctor to Commander Chakotay." There was no response.

"Doctor to the bridge."

"Doctor to anyone!"

"What's going on? Computer, locate Commander Chakotay."

A female voice informed him, "Unable to comply."

"Why?"

"You have been locked out."

"By whom?"

"Ensign Harry Kim," came the monotonic response.

"Ensign Kim? Is he awake?"

"Negative."

"Then how?"

"Please rephrase the question."

"Computer, if Ensign Kim is still unconscious, how can he have authorized locking me out?"

"Unknown."

"Computer, transfer my program to Sick Bay."

"Unable to comply."

"You mean I'm stuck here?"

"Please rephrase the question."

The Doctor sat down heavily on the dune.

__

Chapter 12

"Where does he keep it?"

Medical instruments were being tossed haphazardly from behind a biobed. Laura stopped flinging hyposprays long enough to answer.

"It's not over here."

"Try the desk," Steele suggested between emptying the contents of a medkit and overturning a chair.

"Nothing. Now what?"

He stopped ransacking and thought for a moment.

"I don't know."

"I think we're working too hard."

"How so, Laura?"

"Computer, locate the mobile emitter."

Voyager's central computer replied, "The mobile emitter is in Engineering."

The detectives shared a look of despair.

"Why is it there?" she asked.

The computer answered, "The mobile emitter is being repaired."

"What is the status of the repairs?"

"Unknown."

"What is the nature of the repairs?"

"The mobile emitter's outer shell was damaged. It is being refabricated."

Laura addressed Steele.

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Laura, it sounds like our ticket to freedom is getting the proverbial fresh coat of paint."

"Computer, beam the mobile emitter to Sick Bay."

It materialized on the desk in front of them, without its cover.

"Computer, transfer our programs to the mobile emitter and mask its signal."

"Transfer complete," it responded.

"Well, Mr. Steele," Laura said, "as long as we stay within about fifty feet of each other, we can go anywhere we want."

"Personally, I'd like to go back to Maui. And be a lot closer than fifty feet."

"So would I, but we can't. We also can't stay here." She pointed at the door. "That's the only exit. What if someone comes here?"

"Someone's bound to come check on Harry when they can't transfer the Doctor. Where to this time?"

"How about a nice, quiet, deserted Jeffries tube?"

"Why, Laura, you're an incurable romantic," he said, only half sarcastically.

***

Chakotay said, "How could we have lost contact with him?"

"I don't know," Tom responded. "He's not answering and the computer can't locate him."

"Torres to Chakotay."

"Go ahead."

"The mobile emitter is missing from Engineering. We were repairing it, but it isn't where I left it. The computer can't locate it."

"We can't locate the Doctor, either."

"Could he have left the ship?"

"I don't think so. He seems to be trapped in the holodeck."

Tom said, "I'd better get to Sick Bay and check on Harry."

"Good idea," said Chakotay. "B'Elanna, how are the torpedo modifications coming?"

"Just finished."

"Good. Tom, go to Sick Bay. B'Elanna, meet me on the bridge. Maybe we can rescue the Doctor from there."

Tom began walking to Sick Bay. His walk became a jog when he thought of how long Harry had been there unsupervised.

He entered Sick Bay and checked Harry's vital signs.

"Time to wake you up, Harry."

Tom reached for the tray, expecting to find it neatly lined with hyposprays. They were there, but they were out of place. He found the correct one and administered it, but Harry did not awaken. Tom changed the display so he could study his friend's brain activity.

At first, he did not see anything unusual. Then his eyes widened and he ran to the bridge.

***

"How's Harry, Mr. Paris?" the captain asked when the doors whooshed open to admit Tom to the bridge.

Tom tried to catch his breath before answering, "Still unconscious, even after I tried to wake him. Captain, I think his brain patterns have been copied."

Captain Janeway indicated they should take the discussion into her Ready Room. Chakotay and B'Elanna followed.

"Tom, calm down. Why do you think Harry's neural patterns have been copied?"

"Captain, I was monitoring his brain activity in order to determine why I couldn't wake him." Tom brought up the medical records on the captain's desk terminal. "If you look at these points, you can see echoes. Evidence of copying."

"Maybe the Doctor was incapacitated to prevent us from finding this," Chakotay offered.

"What about the mobile emitter?" B'Elanna asked. "Could its disappearance have something to do with this?"

"What about the radiation? Is there a ship hiding out there, masked by the bursts?" Chakotay asked.

"The radiation."

"Captain?"

"Since we lost the Doctor, the radiation hasn't been attracted to the hull. Before that, it was coming and going every few minutes."

"B'Elanna, put the record onscreen," Chakotay ordered.

They all stared at it.

"Computer, display use records for Holodeck One," Tom said.

"Well, look at that," Captain Janeway intoned.

Tom spelled it out.

"The radiation dissipated every time we tried a new variant. Until the last time. When Harry and I went down to confirm our findings, the radiation blew him into the wall."

Chakotay finished, "Then when we went down, the door was jammed, the holodeck controls were offline, and the Doctor and his mobile emitter went missing."

"We've got to find that mobile emitter," said the captain. "Then we should get some answers. B'Elanna, scan for it, inside and outside the ship. Look for any anomalous signatures, masked life signs, anything."

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna said, leading the group back onto the bridge.

She took her station and began the scans.

"Looks like Seven's got most of the sensors back online." A moment passed, then she announced, "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm not getting anything."

"Keep trying, B'Elanna."

"Yes, ma'am."

Voyager's Chief Engineer tried every combination she could think of. Then the console beeped.

"I've got something, Captain."

"Where?"

"Deck eight." She paused as she localized it. "Jeffries tube, but I can't get the exact location. I don't know if I've found a hypospray, the mobile emitter, or Jimmy Hoffa."

"Who?" asked the captain.

"No one, Captain. I guess I've been talking to Tom too much."

"Tuvok," Chakotay said, "take a security team. Good work, B'Elanna."

***

"Not exactly the Ritz, is it?" Steele observed as he lounged against conduits in the Jeffries tube.

"Maui was much nicer," Laura agreed, trying not to bump her head on the ceiling as she crouched next to him.

"You said you were on to something." He patted the floor next to him. She sat.

"What do we know? The holodeck simulations and Seven's observations of us all pointed to arguments. The crew was about to break Voyager free and leave our corporeal selves in a fight. That was when our friends outside borrowed Harry's knowledge and turned us loose."

"So, we're not supposed to fight."

"I think it's more than that. According to the data, there was an incarnation or two where we did manage to behave in a civilized manner."

"What about the warp core? Our friends keep trying to use it, but they can't draw enough power without collapsing the field. Each time they do, the timeline jumps back a few minutes."

"They want it to go back farther!"

"How far, though, Laura? A day? A week?"

"How about three weeks?"

He appeared to be studying the floor.

"Or not, if you're just going to ignore me," she muttered.

"Computer, on my mark, transfer us back to the holodeck, transfer the Doctor here to his mobile emitter, and lock out everything external from the holodeck, not just changes."

"What are you doing?" cried Laura. Then she heard voices.

"Now!"

"Doctor," Tuvok said, lowering his phaser. "What are you doing here?"

__

Chapter 13

"Well, we're back in Maui."

"Three weeks, eh?"

"You were listening."

"Always, Laura, whether you think I do or not."

Laura smiled and strolled down the beach, leaving him to trot after her.

"So what's the problem?" he asked. "We talk to the captain, find a power source, and resume our lives."

"That's the problem. You left after I told you I needed you."

"Which is precisely what we're correcting."

"Ok. But, what about the next time?"

"What next time?"

She kept walking.

"Laura."

She stopped.

"I could leave herewell, Los Angelestomorrow. So could you. But if you think I'm going to disappear, you're wrong. Even when I walked out that night, I didn't go far. In fact, I didn't go anywhere."

"You know, Mr. Steele, there's really only one way to find out."

"Laura?"

"We're holograms, right?"

"Right," he answered, confused.

"So we can try something before we allow our counterparts in the real world to be put in that situation."

He was taken aback, but he did not let that stop him.

"What do you have in mind?" he breathed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"The same thing you do, Mr. Steele, but not here."

He stopped stroking her hair.

"But Laura, the setting is perfect. It's a beautiful night."

"It is," she said, rolling her head back to take in the stars, "but"

"Yes?"

"Promise you won't run off?"

He resumed running his fingers through her hair.

"Yes."

"Well, Ithis isn't how I pictured this moment. We've never been to Hawaii."

"Take me anywhere, Laura."

"I always dreamt of a secluded cabin during a blizzard. No electricity, no clients, no phone"

"We've never been anywhere like that, either."

"True."

"But I like the idea."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He meant it.

"What were you going to say?"

"When?"

"Three weeks ago. I cut you off. I guess I didn't want to let you talk your way out." She huffed. "That worked well."

He shook his head.

"You remember. I finally get the courage to tell you Iyou started to say something."

"Oh, that."

"'Oh, that'? Tell me."

"You didn't want to hear it."

"I do now."

"How about you program that cabin first?"

"Then you'll tell me?"

He pretended to waver, then relented when she poked him in the ribs.

"Cabin, Laura."

She eyed him suspiciously, then turned away to head for the panel in the palm trees. He held on to her waist and came up behind her.

"You know, I'm never going to get there if you don't let me go."

He ignored her words, but not her body language.

"Mr. Steele."

He whispered in her ear, "Yes, Laura?"

"Tell me what you were going to say."

He swept her hair aside and caressed her neck.

"How do you know it's something you want to hear?"

He felt, rather than heard, her sigh.

"Why are you putting it off?"

"Tell me again what you said three weeks ago."

She said, "I need you."

He spun her around.

"Laura, I love you."

Her eyes closed as she let his words sink in.

"To hell with the cabin," she said as they fell back into the sand.

   [1]: http://www.astone.homestead.com/doubleedgedsteele.html



	5. Part 5

Temporal Steele **__**

Temporal Steele — Part 5

by [AMY STONE][1]

__

Chapter 14

"I don't care. Break it down if you have to."

"Yes, Captain."

A troop of security officers assaulted the holodeck's entrance. Four phasers fired in unison, cutting a porthole in the door. Tuvok stepped through, pried out the metal chair frame, and then pulled the door panels apart to admit Captain Janeway, Chakotay, and the Doctor.

"I'm not picking up any life signs," Chakotay said, consulting his tricorder.

"Doctor, what were you doing when you were transferred to the Jeffries tube?" asked the captain.

"As I recall, I was trying to shut down the program and restore access to the holomatrix. I followed the detectives down the beach toward the panel, then proceeded to fail miserably," he said, looking at his boots.

Chakotay put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok, Doctor. You did what you could."

"Thank you, Commander." He perked up and showed them to the panel.

Tuvok attempted to access the panel without success. He tried voice commands.

"Computer, shut down the program. Authorization Tuvok alpha three."

The surf continued to crash beneath the stars.

"Captain! How kind of you to join us."

"Who the hell are you?"

The figures emerging from the dunes down the beach strolled over.

"Remington Steele," he said, extending his arm. "This is my associate, Laura Holt."

Janeway ignored the proffered hand. Her eyes did not leave them as she addressed her crew.

"We've got a serious malfunction here."

"There is no malfunction, Captain," Steele informed her, brushing sand out of his hair.

"Then you wouldn't mind telling us what's going on here?"

"Not at all." He deferred to Laura.

"Where do I start?"

Captain Janeway shrugged.

Laura thought for a bit, then said, "What you have been referring to as radiation isn't radiation. They are a non-corporeal lifeform and, for some reason, they're interested in us."

They spent the next few minutes explaining.

"And Doctor," Steele added. "Our apologies."

"How do you communicate with these aliens?" asked Chakotay.

"Actually, we don't," answered Steele. "We had to buy some time so we could figure out what they wanted."

"I don't know about this." Captain Janeway paced the sand. "There is no evidence to show that the timeline you propose is the original."

"That's because it's not," Laura said flatly.

"I see."

"The Temporal Prime Directive doesn't enter into this, Captain," Steele said, putting his arm around Laura's waist.

"Oh, it most certainly does. You're asking us to alter the past."

"You're willing to spend the rest of your lives mired in this wormhole on principle? They're not going to let you go."

"We already have a way to get out."

"What about Harry?"

The captain asked, "What about Harry?"

"Have you been able to revive him?"

"No, we haven't," she said, suddenly worried.

"Please don't think we're threatening him. Or you," Laura urged. "It's not us. It's" She waved, indicating the cosmos.

Captain Janeway motioned for her crew to leave.

"Please excuse us. We need a little time to discuss this."

"Take all the time you need, Captain," Laura said. "Just don't shut us down."

"That's a whole different can of worms, isn't it?"

__

Chapter 15

"What are we going to do, Kathryn?"

The captain crossed her quarters and ordered a carafe of coffee from the replicator.

"I don't know, Chakotay." She poured herself a cup and sank back into the sofa. "I just don't know. Am I prepared to let Harry go to get this crew home?"

"That's not the only option. We can give the aliens the torpedo they need to correct the timeline."

"Correct it? We're not talking about a point in time that has been artificially altered. Who are they to decide what happens to Mr. Steele and Miss Holt? Even though they happen to agree with the choice of timeline, what about the effects that change has on others? We could give them the torpedo and vanish from existence."

"So it's either let Harry die or violate the Temporal Prime Directive. Damned if we do; damned if we don't."

"I don't even want to think about what to do with two sentient holograms."

"It's times like this I'm glad I'm not the captain."

"Thanks a lot."

***

"What if she says no?"

"Then I guess we're stuck here, Laura," he said, snuggling closer to her under the blanket in front of the fire. "I like a good blizzard, don't you?"

"She'll shut us down before we're ready. Then we won't exist here and, back in Oregon, we'll screw it up."

"She won't shut us down. We're sentient." He wrinkled his brow and added, "I think."

Laura smiled.

"We'll still screw it up back in the real world."

"You know, Laura," he said, kissing her. "I've been wondering about that. I'd like to think that three weeks ago I just had a little temporary insanity and that we are destined to be together eventually."

"But?"

"But then why would our friends go to all this trouble?"

"Good question."

"I need a drink. How about some champagne, Laura?"

"I'd love some."

"Computer, a bottle of Dom Perignon and two glasses."

They materialized and he poured.

"I do enjoy these holodecks, Laura. I dare say if they existed back home, you'd never get me out. Think of it: one could live inside a movie instead of just watching one. Assume a role. You would make a wonderful Vicky Anderson to my Thomas Crown. There were so many restrictions on films in those days, though. I'd update it a bit. Change a name or two."

"You're hopeless, Mr. Steele."

He handed her the glass. They intertwined their arms and sipped. She twisted inside the blanket to place her glass on the floor. As she did, the blanket slipped, exposing her bare shoulders. He tossed his glass into the fire.

"Are you happy here?" he asked.

"Like I told you, this was my fantasy."

"Got any others?" he said, tracing her shoulder.

Laura thought for a moment, letting his fingers work their way south.

"I love it when you do that, but makes it very difficult to think."

"I'll stop."

"Don't you dare."

Laura concentrated since he was expecting an answer even if he was otherwise occupied at the moment.

"I like it right here," she decided, "with the hologram I love."

__

Chapter 16

"Are you sure we can't just turn off the snow?" asked the captain as she trudged through waist-high drifts.

Chakotay struggled along beside her.

"They programmed this. I don't think we should just shut it off without asking."

"I hope talking to them again helps. They are detectives, after all. Maybe there's another option."

They trekked on toward the cabin. Candlelight flickered dimly through the frost-covered glass. Chakotay knocked.

Inside the cabin, under a myriad of blankets, Laura raised her head.

"Did you hear something?"

"Laura, there is no phone, there's a blizzard outside, and there's no possible way it could be Mildred popping in at an inopportune time."

"I heard knocking. There it is again."

Reluctantly, they rose and dressed.

"Can we come in?" the captain yelled over the howling wind.

Laura opened the door and ushered them in, kicking out a pile of snow before slamming the door shut.

"What can we do for you, Captain? Have you come to a decision?"

"No, I haven't. We came to see if you thought of any options. I'm not too thrilled with the two we have now."

Remington Steele came out from the bedroom, still buttoning his shirt.

"We haven't been giving it too much thought."

"Nothing at all?" asked Chakotay.

"We didn't talk about anything that had to do with this caseuh, situation."

"That's not quite true, Mr. Steele. You wondered why, if we were destined to be together someday, our friends outside would go to such trouble to take us back to three weeks ago."

"Captain," Chakotay said, "there's our answer."

"Explain."

"Maybe the aliens chose that time for a reason. Maybe it accomplishes more than just advancing Mr. Steele and Miss Holt's relationship."

"It's still not the original timeline."

Steele said, "According to what we know from Harry, you really don't know what the original timeline was in Oregon."

"No, we don't."

"So maybe they're preventing you from choosing a situation with a subtle problem that won't show up for a while," Laura reasoned. "These aliens have lived in this wormhole for a long time. I get the impression that they know something about this."

"Computer, how about a table and chairs?" Steele suggested. They appeared, and the four sat down. "I love these holodecks."

He leaned close to Laura's ear under the pretext of adjusting his chair. "And you," he whispered.

"Chakotay, what do you think?" asked the captain, trying not to notice the exchange across the table.

"I think we should give them the torpedo. Then we get Harry back and can be on our way."

"I'm still not sure I like it, but I don't see that we have any other choice." She rose and paced.

"So what's the problem?" 

"I hate to bring this up, but"

"But what about us, right?" Steele read her correctly.

"We can't keep a holodeck running twenty-four hours a day. We've tried it. It doesn't work very well and it's a drain on our limited power supply. We can, however, save your programs and reactivate you when we do have the power."

"That's not necessary, Captain," Laura informed. "We know we're temporary. We've made the most of it."

__

Epilogue

__

blip

Remington Steele was in his bathrobe listening to the thunder and watching _North By Northwest_ when the doorbell rang. He switched off the television, ran his fingers through his hair so he looked presentable, and went to the door. He looked through the peephole to see Laura standing there with a bottle of champagne in one hand. No case, no occasion, no date for dinner.

"Laura! What a pleasant surprise."

"Good evening, Mr. Steele."

"Come in, come in." He stepped aside to let her pass, his back almost touching the entryway wall. She took two steps, just enough to let the door close behind her. They stood there, inches apart, for a moment. He was not sure what to do, and his face betrayed it. His brow furrowed, but the corners of his mouth went up in amusement at the confusion and electricity of the moment. Then she walked past him.

"I'll put this on ice." She reappeared out of the kitchen a moment later with an ice bucket and two glasses.

"What's the occasion?" he asked as he headed to the bedroom to dress.

"There isn't one," she called after him. "It's after ten. You don't have to change on my account."

He poked his head out of the bedroom door, his face covered in the same confusion as when she came in. What was she up to? He knew better than to hope, but he couldn't help it. He pulled on trousers and a shirt anyway.

When he opened the bedroom door, she was right there, pretending to study the framed movie posters she had seen a thousand times before.

"Laura? Is something wrong?" He touched her shoulder, turning her to face him.

His answer came as she drew him into a kiss. For a moment, he thought he should push her away and drag whatever it was out of her, but her kiss was so urgent and her scent so intoxicating that he could not do it. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing her deeply, letting her draw him into this moment.

The kiss continued, and his arms were so close around her that all he had to do was lean back slightly to pick her up. Against every fiber of his being, he carried her to the sofa instead of the bedroom.

When he put her down, their lips finally parted. Each studied the other's eyes. She lifted her head to kiss him again. Before she could, he spoke.

"Laura, why don't we sit?"

This startled Laura, but she sat down. He did not sit next to her. His brain was telling him this was not right, even if other parts of him were telling him to ignore his brain. He perched on the coffee table in front of her.

Neither said a word. They stared at their respective shoes, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I need a drink," she finally said.

"Amen to that," he said with as much of a laugh as he could muster while his mind raced and he tried to think rationally about what was happening here.

He popped the cork, letting the foam wash over his hand. He poured two very full glasses and handed one to Laura before taking a long drink."Mr. Steele," she finally said.

He waited for her to continue, but she was silent.

"Yes, Laura?" He took her hands in his.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

She hesitated. "Carry me here instead of"

"Laura, I know you too well. Something is wrong."

She squeezed his hands and moved forward, her face once again very close to his. "Actually, it's not."

The confusion was back, but without the smirk. She went on.

"I realized something today."

"What was that?"

She said nothing. Her lips parted in preparation to speak, but nothing came out. She let go of his hand and picked up her glass. She drained it and he refilled it.

Quietly, she said, "I need you." A beat, then stronger, "I need you."

Nothing is wrong. She needs me. She said it. Now or never, Steele, he thought. Tell her.

"Laura, I"

The brash ring of the telephone interrupted. He let it go, hoping it would soon stop.

On the tenth ring, Laura asked, "Don't you think you should get that?"

Reluctantly, he went into the kitchen to answer it. He wanted to be out of earshot when he told whoever it was to bugger off.

"This better be important."

"Chief, I am so glad you're there. This Admiral called me at home, insisted I call you immediately, He said he tried, but just couldn't wait until tomorrow. He's got a very important case he can't trust to military channels and he needs you on it right away. I'm supposed to call him back yesterday', as he put it. He said he won't take no for an answer."

He was silent for a moment.

"Tell him no."

He replaced the receiver, then reached under the phone to shut off the ringer. He walked back to the living room and sat beside Laura.

"What were you about to say?" she asked uncertainly.

"I was about to tell you that I love you."

THE END

Make sure to check out my other stories at [www.astone.homestead.com][1]

   [1]: http://www.astone.homestead.com/doubleedgedsteele.html



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